10/30/09

losing light,he takes a chance,and hurls one up high,way above the lights:a last chance at alittle romance;and who knew,but that little scamptook flight,into the night,and now there isnothing around,but what was found:which is perfect;and what it is inside,is quite the sight:who gets to call an endto this one?no one.

it just wouldn't do, merelysexing you; it would be great,of course, no regret, no remorse,since you are da best, number oneon any man's list of requests,but no, no, that shit is just notgonna go, no way that it is gonnaflow; demeaning the gleamingof you removes all the meaningfrom what we have for all of ourteaming; so we have to find a bitmore space to retrace to the placewhere we started, find out whereit was that our intentions parted,look for what there was betweenyou and I that soared, that touchedthe sky, and flowed, and glowed,and let us both know that this lovewas timeless, flawless, perfect:something inevitable, quiet,hidden, even circumspect;a condition not subject to anyrendition, merely a state of being,that gives us both the meaning,of an all consuming love.

10/26/09

attackedfrom withinand without:take me, butonly if you leaveno doubtthat my daughters,and Her,will be spared this,so they may live and lovelong, without further disaster;and if you will agree,then seize me,Master;if however, you disagree,prepare to meet meat the Gates of Hell,to do battle,my hands stranglingyour slimy, slippery throat,until at last,you succumbto your sharp-eyedstudent, your latestincarnationof ill intent.

10/25/09

the winds come,this night,winnowing;deciding what will beleft,and what will have usmourningin the morning;how much will be goneand how little leftfor us to live on,move on,be on,be in,pretend to winagainst Nature's might,cast down here,relentless,through the night;fools, we are,to cast our hopeson a distant star,which next minutecould simply fade,and leave life as we know it,big time in the shade:the mightiest forest,shattered,smattered,laid flat,no longer a glade,a haven,a respite,but merely a bladeor two, of what originallykept it;we dance around the campfire,and sing,"we are those, who brought deathto everything."

a cast character actor,you were only followingthe script,what the writer was reallyafter,what would be otherwisenondescript, lost,tossed, forsaken:love left bleeding, broken,never taken,something that you puzzle overwhen you awaken,long overwhelmed,overtaken,by what it was that left youshaken,wondering,what had passed this way,worrying aboutwhat you would say,to everyone who camethis way, today:"it just overcame me,it was a singularity,taken flight, and I hope neveragain to see it this night,"as you paused, in repose,but as everyone knows,you left as you had arrived,with your choicesalready chose.

10/23/09

the parting,made no easierby its repetition,as we two returnto our respective conditions:I turn left,as she turns right,both of us feeling the loss,feeling bereft;eyes locked,hands clasped,lips trembling,we both wishfor some other ending,even, perhaps one that isnever-ending,with neither of us havingto bow to the relentlessflow of such a strongundertowas responsibility,invading the cocoonof two lovers' heatedtranquility:those stolen hourslike pressed-flat flowersin our memories,in our multicolored stories,of just over one day passed,but one that will long last,until union is reunionand again our die is cast:unresolvable,unsolvable,yet immutable,eternal,fixed on some vernal pointon time's horizon,one that only we twowill recognizewhen it comes again;when it comes again.

I go north,as she goes south,yet this love remainsso solidly in the center;two lives, so disparate,but two souls sent downthrough time,me to be hers,and she to be mine;some might laugh,and cast it off as some crueltrick that star-crossed minds play,but they would be wrongby more than half,as we know, this day, thatthis love of ours has tumbledand tossed,has been won and lost,in more ways thanthere have been days;measures of treasures passed,lost, ruptured, broken, castdown long shadows of time,when rocks were still young;all of the many songsthat our hearts have sung,cascade down upon us,neither of us ever equippedto say good-bye,trapped in the valley that islove's vast crater,we can only wave,quivering,and mutter,"see you later."

the writing surface I am using right nowis a first edition paperbackof The Roominghouse Madrigals;if you want one now,they go for about sixty dollars online,when you can find one;sad, maybe, that Buk didin 24 short years, whatI haven't done in 39,give fruit.Although, I did just talkto my oldest daughter,who is both beautiful and brilliant,heart and soul where they should be,and she turned 22 about 22 minutes ago,and she is an exampleof my very best work;so no sixty-buck books,but still,fruit.

wrong day for the fall picnic,as the sky empties its bladderon everything and everyone,and the gale-force windgives flight to the previously flightless:yes, today, penguins and pigsare set loose to soaralong with the fast food wrappersand Dunkin Donuts cups;the flotsam and jetsamof the brave new century,as we worry ourselves into cocoons,hiding, hiding, hiding,lest we be discovered by the wolf,who looks very much like us;in here, we are safe,from this nasty weatherand that nasty wolf,even though we find it increasinglyhard to move, to breathe,and slowly, imperceptibly,we simply atrophy.

the lone gull eyes me carefully --I am no starfish, that's for sure;just a pobrecito in the rain,some strange creature, lost,out of place, as sheets of rainpelt the soggy grass that is nowmore than ready for winter's sleep --another inconvenience to avoidas he pecks the soil for the inevitabledrowning worms --not exactly fresh mackerel,but they will have to do for this morning,as the gale is inhospitableto flight over the grey water of the harbor --land-bound, as am I,he does as I do,in a gull sort of way,he makes do,I make do,and we both exist that way.

I've put them on ice,so to speak,since I am so in love with Her;or at least I've tried:they still work theirmagic,no matter whereI find myself --the grocery store,the drugstore,at a meeting that I'm covering,in a gift shop looking forthat perfect little thingto tell Her that She meanseverything to me,walking down the street,at the post office,pumping gas,loitering in front ofthe Dollar Tree store,sitting in the parkwriting poems,browsing the used books,doing research at the library,everywhere I go --they work, without me evenknowing,and I glance up,and see the smiles,the guiles,the wiles,usually of the brown-eyed girls,and I avert the killer electric bluesas quickly as I can,since I am not theirs,since I am Her man.

Sometimes, no hell, most of the times,I wish that I had a name that I could puton it, something that would tack it down,take it more than just one turn around,put me back to where I was, maybe evenon the ground, back when having Youaround, just around, was the best thingthat there was that I had found, you andme, bound to something that was biggerand better than both of us, when all wehad to discuss was not all that much,back when things were simpler, whenthey were clearer, starker, and yourdimples were just dimples, and not theparts that I hung my heart on, that mademe just speechless, that made me stop,look, and listen, to what made my heartstop, seek, flow, and glisten with thediscovery of you, what had been solong part of us, what was true, eveneternal, down millennia, down alltime, You and me, and then I stopmyself, I put all those nameless, sillyworries back on the shelf, and I justknow, that what we know, that whatwe show, well, it may be nameless,but that is okay, because it is simplytimeless.

this Sunday morningfinds Ned's Pointquiet: an oddity,virtually no wind(not a good day for sailors),but bright and sunny,as autumnal urgesbeckon gulls to sleepstanding up,and the schools of mackereltake a breather;I sit at the table,set just as it was,with you perched atop,legs crossed,your smile entering me,your laugh, breakingthe silence;and though the day begsquiet reflection,I stick toremembrance instead.

and I have many timesconsideredthe fascination,with no conclusion;maybe it is merelysome Euclideandream sequence,long, soft, slopingcurves,and a fullness,a richness,that is almostagrarian in itssensuality,its eroticity --a mystery,likely lost tosome history --but still, its oval,its perfect ellipses,have drawn manyto ecstasyupon its view;

I know of onesuch preciseposterior, and Isaw it again,just last month:as I liftedthe bedsheet,there it was --crafted bygenetics,aerobics,antics --no matter,it is the fuel,the lifeblood,the brain food,of romanticslike me,and it isforeverburned intomy retinas.

10/8/09

outside, the wind rages,carrying her swirling petticoats,dancing far above me,a speck on a small rock,far below;and all that I do not know,falls and flies,to and fro, likedragonflies,seemingly without purpose,in this crazy, mixed-up circus,that we call Life;but tonight,there is a silenceinside this room,as your voice,your laughter,will not incandescethis mess, this by-productof generationsof largesse:as I will sit, silently,alone, wishing thatyou were on the phone,searching,nurturing,seeking,always peekingaround a corner or two,just being the "You"of me and You,the one meant,and lived, asTrue,the one with a clear viewof a misty tomorrow,the one with a rearview,of unspeakable sorrow,that we walked,together;and so tonight,you must give dueto what is your duty,and I know that this mustbe so, this is the pricethat I pay to be low,downunder, below theradar, but only to go sofar:pledges, promises, vows,loom large,and we discharge ourobligations,our obviations,as mere eliminationsof what we wish werenot part of our emulations;

and so You go there,while I wait here,and we will meet again,on the morrow.

10/6/09

I was out today,feeling powerful,driving the PT,sunny, blue sky,about 65 degrees,windows down,shades on,glistening,reflecting,sunroof open,Fun 107 blastingDrake:Best I Ever Had,and I was feelingimmortal again,totally fuckinginvincible;(hell, I evenconsidered, briefly,unfasteningthe seat beltexcept I knewhow stronglyYou woulddisapprove),and I thought,this is one of thebest gifts thatYouhave given me:me,back;restored,17 again,but with38 yearsof experience;yeah, okay,a realpeacock moment,fine, guiltyas charged; but seeing as howlow I found my heartcould go onlyrecently, and nowwatching it clip cloudsas it cruisesthe atmosphere,well that is awesome(an overused word,but awe is the emotion),so I wanted to jot downa few lines to relate it,and to say thanksfor falling in love withme, for probably theone thousandth time,for making the climb,snagging the lineas I cruised by,only another soul,tumbling throughthe sky, and for beingso true after so manymillennia;soft and strong,fearless and panicky,deep and hilarious:the song that my heartsang centuries ago,the One I knowwill always find me,inspire me,believe in me,and on whom I casteyes of adoration,as I see you next to me,uttering a simple command:drive.

10/5/09

the image, burned so deeply intomy retinas, quite simply the mostdivine of such that I have everknown: my hands, holding yourhips, tight, with all my might,keeping you down on the bed,as your back arched, nearly takingflight, all night, as I took youinto multiple delights, so tight,that I could feel you becominga full-fledged sprite, a faeriefilled with light, but not quiteaire-borne, but so close, so veryclose that you knew that it wasme that had brought you, andthough it was your magicalcurfew, you lingered longenough to give me just enoughto keep me coming back formore, back to the silken beachesof your shore, back to have justa little bit more.

10/4/09

dreams dashed, hope crashed, nosurvivors found, nothing muchleft around the center of theimplosion, just a notion, that itcould have turned out so muchbetter, talent wasted, somethingsweet and spicy tasted, even iffor such a short time, even ifmore ridiculous than sublime,even if I could have fooledmyself one more time that Iwas still immortal, that I walkedthe halls of time, surveying allthat was once mine, thinkingthat all I held was fine, only totake that headfirst dive into amortality that consumes all thatis alive, including me, onceagain, setting me free to float ineternity, still seeking to find allthat inhabited my mind forcenturies, for millennia, yeah,yeah, yeah, baby, whatevahreally rocks ya, takes the socksoff ya, gets your groove workin,sets free that monster in thebackground that's lurkin, letsthat creature be the whole doublefeature, puts it all in perspective,leaves nothing to the imagination,leaves nothing to be elective,all mandatory, all the same oldsad story, that none of us get outof this life alive, that love downthrough eons may thrive, but notenough for any one of us to live,to survive, and so I will die yetagain, and forever and ever seekyou out, amen.

October 4, 2009, and no, it is not for You, or you, or you. It is for me.

10/3/09

the drained urns of all that I havelearned, all the sharp corners thatI have turned, do not have enoughvolume to express my love for You,my long-lost soulmate, tu, mujer:my one-and-only certain fateis to be forever in your arms,immersed in your magnificentcharms, setting off smoke alarms,up to my elbows in whoknows what, but all that you'vegot, and then some; yourwinsome looks, those quiet butdeadly hooks, and all that ittook to find you is more thananything before, and anythingthat I care to remind you of,but let's just call it an eternallove, since it is.

10/1/09

Calmaté, mi amigo, I have never intendedto take anything, or anyone, away fromyou, especially Her, on whom your wholelife has been built, to the hilt, and this istrue, es verdad, and you must know thatthis flow, this thing that did pop up andproceed to grow, well it was just asunexpected as the fact that we elected ablack president, it was just sent to us, ithappened, dude, and to deny it would bedenying the servitude that lovers, real,honest-to-God lovers, give to the lovethat consumes them, that rules all thatthey do, that makes them continue, movealong, live, and sing any old song, themovement that separates them from thedead and the dying, the quest, the vying,the searching, the trying, the exploration,the expiation, of a certain elation, of adiscovery of a recovery of a soul that Iloved so many thousands of years ago,and for whom I have been searching allthis time, through the ridiculous and thesublime, the One who was once mine, andI must announce now that I have finallyfound Her, and She is yours for most ofthe time, but for a moment or two, She isalso mine; a difficult concept for anyoneto grasp, but believe me, my man, thislove has traveled so far down throughtime, that I know that it is ours, Hers,and mine; and it will be so until the endof time.